Head in the Stars
by LucyChanWritesThings
Summary: Jake is a very lonely boy on his very lonely island.


Jake was a lonely little boy on his lonely little island. Nothing could really be said about his island, apart from the fact that it was beautiful in every sense of the word. Trees that seemed to create pillars in the landscape, separating the grass below from the canopy of leaves, creating splashes of light across the earth. The blue sky peaked through the leaves, making promises of a happy life and happy death, not a single cloud to greyen the mood. The sea that surrounded it glistened the deepest shades of blue and the most calming greenish hues, often lulling Jake to sleep without fear of being picked up and floated out to sea, protected by a thin border of white sand, safeguarding the entire island. The flora was a sight to behold, bushes and trees and flowers of every imaginable shape, size and every colour on the known spectrum, and the unknown. Herbs that evoked old memories, the cinammony taste of apple crumble like his grandmother used to make, the mint leaves that awakened his senses and froze his airways, the gentle rosemary that seemed to draw him in. The summer's air that never went away, the warmth that glowed on his skin and never demanded he wear a jacket. It almost never rained, and when it did, it was in the middle of the night, where the sky would open up and the stars and the nebulas stared back at the lonely little boy on his lonely little island. The rain washed over him, he opened up his arms to the heavens as a teenage boy and let the rain cleanse away his pain, the pain that solitude would soon bring, the pain of losing his grandmother. The pain of protecting her ashes from anything that dare look. The way the rain would calm him was almost like the nebulas were her essence, the stars her signals. She would wrap her arms around him, the rain as her medium, and wash his pain away.

"It's okay, my dear. I am proud of you. Don't cry now."

When the rain eventually stopped, Jake would take the long way back to his jungle abode. He would pass the lake that shimmered in the moonlight, the trees with the forgiving canopies that let the stars guide him home. He would pull off his shoes, curl up in bed, but leave the window open. He wanted to see the skies, the stars, the nebulas. More importantly, he wanted them to see him. His grandmother told him that those stars are the departed souls of all the people in the world. When a baby is born, a star falls to Earth. When someone ready to move on finally dies, another star appears in the sky. He wanted to know that someone out there knew he existed. Even if they had already departed to the heavens.

Jake grew up on that island, hunting and living and sleeping alone, with only the stars to guide him. "Go where the stars lead you." his grandmother once said. Through his life, he found this to be true. Eventually, 15 became 20, 20 became 30. Even as a middle aged man, Jake was strong, quick on his feet, and good with a gun. He could shoot a tiger dead in the eyes and cook him for dinner on an open fire out in the forest. Those were the nights he loved. Just him and the stars. As time went on, Jake craved the touch of another's hand, the touch of a lover, a friend, a soulmate. He learned to accept this was just one of the things he would never have. It brought no pain to him, of course. He was very much accustomed to that sort of lifestyle. Live your life at 100 miles per hour, and rest when you're dead. No time for love, or sacrifice.

Jake fondly remembered those days, so caught up in the memory. He could taste the rosemary and smell the forest around him. It was only when he looked in the mirror one day and he no longer saw Jake English, adventurer extraordinaire. He saw Jake English, an old man with a crop of silver hair where it once was black, and dull grey eyes behind rectangular spectacles where they once were so vivid and full of life. He realised his time with his feet on the Earth was limited and, let's face it, he wasn't much of an adventurer anymore. Sure, he could still shoot and catch food, but no more running for miles on end. No more going where the stars took you. Jake was an adventurous soul trapped in a deteriorating body. But he knew no better and smiled. He would make the most of his time.

60 soon evolved into 80. And then 87 years.

It was raining that night.

Jake took his oak walking stick he'd fashioned himself from an old tree, and pulled himself out of his chair. He hobbled out of the house, down past the canopies, the flowers of every colour, the bushes and the lake that glimmered in the moonlight. He stood out on that clearing again, the same way he did when he was 15. He dropped his walking stick, and let the rain wash over him. He let it wash away the deterioration, wash away the feeling of loss, the feeling of being robbed of his youth.

Jake was a lonely old man on his lonely little island. But he wasn't as lonely as before. He had the stars, and the stars had him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel young again. The silver hair grew raven black, and his emerald green eyes sprang back to life. He opened his arms, and a woman greeted him. Silver haired and jade eyed. She smiled serenely, before taking his hand and walking away with him.

"Time to go home, Jake. We've been waiting for you."


End file.
